


Once In a Sterling Moon

by djarum99



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-18
Updated: 2010-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djarum99/pseuds/djarum99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a belated Valentine's Day gift and in response to <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/hseas_challenge/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/hseas_challenge/"><b>hseas_challenge</b></a> #3 - "exotica erotica," with a few of the other prompts thrown in for good measure. J/E in a Singapore that never existed outside a Universal backlot - apparently the place was a swampy fishing village until Sir Thomas Raffles happened upon it in the early 19th century. I prefer Jack Sparrow's version :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once In a Sterling Moon

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current location:**   
|    
[wednesday](http://maps.google.com/maps?q=wednesday)   
  
---|---  
  
**Current mood:**   
|   
amused  
  
**Current music:**   
| Ryan Bingham - South Side of Heaven  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[fic](http://djarum99.livejournal.com/tag/fic), [hseas_challenge](http://djarum99.livejournal.com/tag/hseas_challenge), [j/e](http://djarum99.livejournal.com/tag/j/e), [post-awe](http://djarum99.livejournal.com/tag/post-awe)  
  
  
_**Fic: Once In a Sterling Moon**_  
**Title:** _Once In a Sterling Moon_  
**Author:** [](http://djarum99.livejournal.com/profile)[**djarum99**](http://djarum99.livejournal.com/)  
**Rating:** N17  
**Pairing:** J/E  
**Disclaimer:** Disney owns, I make no profit

 

"Every quid arrives chained to its companion pro quo, Lizzie - the trick is severing the links before said quo slips its hand down your breeches. Or up your petticoats, but in this case, of course, the former holds true. We'd best sail with the dawn, before anyone suffers a change of heart."

"I miss them sometimes. Petticoats."

Her words float on burnt-sugar wings over Singapore's crowded harbour; rum lends the night an amber glow, hazing lanterns and burnishing the tide. Elizabeth leans into the rail, watching Tai Huang's crew swarm the deck of the _Empress_. She's almost drunk, as close as she allows, but not drunk enough to drown regret. A landless King, and a shipless captain, now divested of the title - more ties severed, and so little left to bind her.

Jack's fingers glide beneath her sleeve, circle the warmth of her wrist, find skin still innocent of wind and time. She's drifting again, bears the look of a woman lost, the one he finds in her eyes sometimes when she doesn't know he's looking. The _Pearl_ rides low with the weight of jade, and the last of Sao Feng's charts lies waiting in his cabin, a key to hidden worlds. Elizabeth has bargained well but he knows she's traded freedom, isn't certain what that means for their wary cobweb alliance.

"Craving the feel of silk and pearls? You wear your own, my darlin' doom, and my cabin still lacks dresses. I like you best that way. Naked. Unfettered. Nothing sharp to hand."

She steps away from the rail, leans into him instead. The woman doesn't need a weapon to cut him, but he likes that, too, her steel and her pride - the half-seen tenderness beneath, more threat than any blade. Jack has danced far too long on life's lonely edge to deny he's in love with the danger.

"Quid pro quo. Tai Huang has the _Empress,_ and his homeland. I couldn't have held the ship long, Jack, I know that. He would have become my Barbossa, and I've already lived in your mistakes. You do make an excellent tutor."

"Not exactly a reputation I covet, but my foibles are at your service, as always, ready and waiting and...upright, milady, in case you'd not noticed. Hard. I believe it's time for another lesson in aesthetics. We've rum enough, and all night long-"

"I want to go ashore, Jack, taste something new, walk foreign streets. I want to go where you would, see things I've not imagined."

He twists sideways, assesses the set of her jaw with a speculative grin that hooks sly at his mouth, sparks fire in kohl-dark eyes.

"Do you now..."

~

 

Singapore flourishes at the whim of mud and monsoons, and that of its latest warlord. The city carries no mark of Sao Feng's passing, though she doubts she'd find an answer now to her plaintive pirate's song. The bridge they cross is familiar, curtained in moon-laced fog; she had rowed beneath it months before, when Jack remained lost to the Locker and Will Turner walked strong and whole_. ...thieves and beggars..._

The street vendor's stall tilts precariously toward the water, strands of shark's teeth and brass trinkets looped haphazard above their heads. Smoke from a brazier wreaths Jack's face as he removes a manta's glistening spine, presents the clay trencher with a flourish.

"Reckon you've not tasted stingray, love - eat hearty, you'll be needing your strength."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind."

Elizabeth allows him to feed her anyway, taking the salt-sweet flesh from his proffered knife, and then from his juice slick fingers. Jack pulls her against him when she laps at his palm, his cock pressed hard at her thigh. The fishmonger doesn't blink. Strange new worlds...the burn of rum has faded, enough to leave her wondering where his path might take her, if she'll have nerve to follow.

"Try this, Bess."

A spiky, monstrous fruit, neatly halved by his blade and reeking of...bilge water, ancient boots. He carves out a dripping chunk and waves it before her face, bends close and whispers sly.

"Said you wanted 'new' and 'never.' I dare you."

When she opens her mouth to protest he slips the piece inside - what stank of hell tastes of heaven, nectar and sunlight, and she closes her eyes, sighs.

"That's...amazing."

Jack measures the distance between them, calculates the weight of curiosity and need - hers, and his own. He knows his soul tips the balance, but he's never been a man for the caution he casts to a blind and reckless wind. _"I want to go where you would..."_

The Singapore Jack remembers has blurred, shifted, reformed into a patchwork of old and new. He hasn't walked here in a decade, longer, and the woman at his side is younger than the man he'd been, roaming these streets with Bootstrap Bill, a stiff prick, his head full of poppies and his pockets full of brass. The irony isn't lost, the smirk of capricious Fate, as he wraps an arm round Will Turner's wife and ushers her into sin.

Elizabeth drinks deep, intoxicated by brothel doorways and their prelude to wickedness, the women who caress Jack's cheek, her own, offer delight in a singsong lilt.

"Do they know that I'm a woman?"

"Doesn't matter, love. Not here."

Merchants hawk their wares from ramshackle carts filled with oysters, jade, wicker cages alive with songbirds. Jack buys an earthenware bottle, warm from charcoal embers, and the liquid inside kindles flame in her belly, clouds her vision, splinters the world into clarity. She flattens instinctively against a wall when fire bursts across the sky, a cascade of rainbow sequins, and he laughs, nips at her neck, kisses her until she fights free to breathe. Drowning, it's like drowning, in him, this city, the air too thick with spice and the sea.

Jack leads her through narrow passageways, crowded at first and then empty, silent, as they make their way towards the city's edge. The cobblestones end in a slippery track at the juncture of river and sea; above the churning water, a kelong balances atop bamboo stilts, long and low, a squat collection of witch's hats woven of moonlight and mossy rattan. Orchids swathe the woven slats, their perfume drifting heavy on the gauze of a northern breeze.

"What is this place?"

"An old haunt, darlin', a favourite of mine in me younger days. A place to see things you've not imagined."

Another kiss, and he steals hesitation with a gypsy's tongue. She wraps her arms around his neck, bites his lush lower lip, sharp enough to meet his challenge. Younger...he would have been beautiful, too much so not to suffer for it; she snakes her hand beneath his shirt, reads the journal of his scars. He's beautiful still, too much so, and she smiles to hide that truth from him, steps towards the nearest open door.

Tapestries shimmer in a curving candlelit hallway, the scent of orchids lost beneath an acrid smoky haze. Jack slips an arm around her waist, grinning as her eyes widen and her lips part - there are no doors inside, and the first visible portal reveals the purpose of this haven. Shades writhe in naked ecstasy, all of them male, all engaged in practices she has never witnessed, though she finds she can name quite a few. In a ship's close quarters few men think to guard their tongues, and Jack has proven most generous in his instruction.

A sentry lumbers from his post, extending a hand to bar their way. He wears nothing save a drape of linen above his hips, and boasts a swirling chaos of serpents and colour and winged beasts, not an inch of skin left bare. Jack murmurs a few words, and she hears the chink of coins. Their host growls something in response, jerks his head in her direction and Jack delves into his purse once more. Satisfied with the offering and a final glare, the guard shifts his bulk aside and gestures for them to pass. She half expects to find Cerberus round the next corner, but the way ahead lies clear.

He grips Elizabeth's arm and pushes her into an alcove, lifts her chin to meet his gaze as he presses her tight to the wall. He needs to know if he's thieving, or giving her what she wants - another irony he can ill afford to lose, and he cups her breast to soften the sting.

"We're here to look, love, and no one will touch you. Leaving's as simple as a tug at my sleeve."

She smiles, leans in to fill his palm, eyes glittering hot and bold. Jack thinks of the many times he's underrated his opponents, grins, and lifts a hand to the other breast.

"_You're_ touching me, Jack. I want to touch you."

"Ah. Onward, then, sweeting - and stay close."

Jack navigates a space made treacherous by recumbent forms and opium's bitter ghost, clutching her hand and shaking his head at the question in her eyes.

"We've no need of dragons, Lizzie - though there's little harm in breathing deep. Watch your head."

Lifting a dingy curtain, he beckons her forward and she bends low, half-crawling into darkness; her boots encounter softness and then Jack shoves her down, rolls her beneath him. Cushions ease the fall to a floor covered in woven mats - Jack's weight holds her fast, his beard rough against her cheek, and then he rolls again, stands.

He fumbles to the wall, unties a velvet hanging. The window behind it floods the room with golden light - he's chosen well, judging by the sound she makes, half shock and half enchantment. Two women lie on a satin draped chaise, a tangle of black silk and ivory. Jack returns, stretches behind her and cradles her to his chest. He's undressing her, and she helps him, eyes locked on the scene above, aware of his warmth, his cock, hard at the hollow of her spine. When she's naked, she twists to keep them in view, struggles with his belt and weapons until he laughs, strips himself bare. Behind her again, he lowers them both to the floor, skin to skin.

His hands mimic the movements of the woman astride, bringing her nipples to peaks, into the heat of his mouth. She arcs in tandem with the woman beneath, threading her fingers through sea-rough hair. Jack moans low in his throat, uses his teeth, and heat coils tight in her belly, spirals down. Rocking against him, she watches the pair above, framed in candlelight and fascination.

"They're beautiful."

"Aye. So soft, love. Here-" he parts her thighs, skims light over delicate flesh "-and here, so sweet." His fingers slide between her lips, and she tastes of musky wine. "Watch. They know your body, your secrets."

He finds them, too, following their lead, finds the place beneath each breast that makes her sigh, the hollow beneath her ribs that lifts her knees against his hips, urges him down. The women in the window shift position, take each other with their tongues, and he pulls her above him, teaches her to do the same. She's awkward, cupping him with shaking hands, but her mouth is paradise, her quim a chalice, and he comes near to spending when she cries out, rakes his skin, trembles like a leaf in the wind.

She's spread beneath him in a fall from grace, pearl and bronze and helpless wings - she hadn't come to him a virgin, he hasn't stolen that, but entering her each night is still a baptism by fire. Each night, and this one, he'll take all that he can and knows he'll want for more. The show his gold bought is for her, his need, his offering for the weakness he's failed to slaughter. He's not come back from hell a better man, but he's whole - each time he enters her, he welcomes defeat, burns.

Their companions rest sated, entwined behind the glass. One of them lifts a languid hand to stroke her lover's wrist, her gaze fixed on the room beyond. Elizabeth wonders if they can be seen, too, pale flesh through mirrored panes, and loses the thought when he kneels behind her, splays a hand beneath her ribs and thrusts in fierce and deep. Falling again, and she struggles to keep her balance, feels his body tighten as her arms give way. Jack sinks his teeth into her shoulder, pulls her upright - she reaches back to grasp his flank, sweat-slick and straining, wraps his cock with hungry fingers as he spills against her thigh. He holds her there unsteady, buries his face in her hair until the women rise and douse their lanterns, leave them swaying in the dark.

Singapore never sleeps, but the crowds have thinned beneath a greying sky as they make their way to the docks. The _Pearl's_ decks show signs of morning, men in the ratlines making ready to sail, and Jack smiles, his eyes on the horizon. She's quiet beside him, but her hand is firm at his hip and she walks like a woman reborn.

"Atlantis, Lizzie. Sao Feng's chart says it rises, once in a sterling moon when the Sun consorts with Venus. Come with me. Let Teague keep his Code alone, as he's always done."

"Abandon my throne?"

She's frowning, but he can see through her, at least he hopes that he can, enough to hold her and to keep his hide unscathed.

"We'll find you another ship. A bigger one. A better one."

"Ah. A fleet, is it? With you as commodore, Jack?"

"Captains both, Lizzie. Partners. Trust me."

"Never. And yes. Atlantis, and the Sun consorting with Venus. I like the sound of that."

"As above, so below. Or suspiciendo despicio, if you're Danish. Come here."

He pulls her into a stone wall's shadow, and she pulls him into a kiss, tasting the night, herself, a reckless bright tomorrow.

"Thank you, Jack. For Singapore."

"You said that before, and walked away."

"I said yes. You row."

"I rowed the last time."

He picks up the oars, uses the left to scoop up the sea, drenches her shirt.

"Bastard."

"Captain Jack Sparrow, love. You row."

She does, and he admires the view, with words bawdy enough to make her blush. Her laughter rings across the water and he settles against the bench, falls silent as she studies his face.

"You look like Apollo in his bloody chariot, lording it over the heavens. Arrogant. Smug. Vain." He looks like some pagan fury, hair flying wild on a zephyr's song and eyes like a sultan's concubine - weathered, beautiful, and someday she'll find courage to tell him.

She's grinning and there's heat in her eyes, for him; the _Pearl_ looms above her head, black canvas stirring, welcoming the wind. "Afraid I'm more akin to Dionysus, darlin', but I'll thank you for the thought. And you, love, look like Venus rising. A bit sweaty, perhaps, but glorious nonetheless."

"The Sun's consort, under sterling moons. Speak to me sweetly, so that I may warm your bed this night."

She smiles again as dawn breaks and sets the clouds to spinning, threading gold across the water. Jack won't break, not again, not since the Locker and its shattering gift of peace - he's almost sure of it. He is afraid, just a little, just enough to send fire running through his veins, to set his heart to racing. Atlantis, and this woman, and a chart for unknown realms.

Singapore disappears beneath morning's horizon, and Elizabeth's eyes shine bright as the sea.

 

 

_Or suspiciendo despicio, if you're Danish_ ~ Jack is referring to the words of the astronomer, Tycho Brahe, speaking of portents in the stars - "by looking up, I see downward".

 

[   
](http://www.maploco.com/view.php?id=3142209)   
[](http://www.maploco.com/)

 


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